Holding On
by Empathist
Summary: A short one-shot story set in the immediate aftermath of Brendan finding Lynsey's body.


I've only got myself to blame. It has to be me, it has to, because who would want to hurt Lynsey if not to hurt me? Another beautiful kid dead because of what I've done, because of who I know, how I live: first Vinnie, because that must have happened because of me, although I still haven't figured out why; and now this wee girl. And there was no harm in either of them, and I've outlived them both.

It's just a few seconds since I found her and the shock of it knocked me back from her, but now it plays again in my head, the feel of her wrist in my hand before I dropped it. It was warm. Fuck, it was warm, so there's still a chance I can save her, isn't there? A chance _someone_ can save her, because I don't know how to. I pick her up in my arms, and she weighs no more than she did when she was fourteen, fifteen, when she and my sister got pissed on cider in the park and Cheryl phoned me to come and get them in the middle of the night, and I drove them home to the house I'd moved out of when I was sixteen, and I carried Lynsey up to Cheryl's room and laid her on the bed, and kissed her forehead, and got out before my dad woke up and found me there.

I carry her out through the front door, careful she doesn't hit her head, and I make sure I don't scrape her bare feet on the wall on the way down the steps as we go, because I wouldn't hurt this girl, not in a million years.

There's no-one, and then Cheryl is there, I hear her screaming as she sees us. I lie Lynsey down in the middle of the street, and I think I tell Cheryl she's not breathing, and I think I call out to someone to call an ambulance, and I think Cheryl does too. She's on her knees, we both are. I don't know how to do CPR. Why don't I know? I've seen it done though on the telly, so I'm going to have to try because I can't let Lynsey be dead. _Please, God. Please, God. Please, God._

Someone's running up to us, says he's a doctor, an answer to my prayer.

Someone's on the phone asking for an ambulance: I realise it's Stephen's voice, calm, polite, getting it done.

Someone else's voice, Joel's, saying "Brendan?" and Christ, he shouldn't be seeing this, he's been through hell already today because of me, so I get up and tell him to go, go to Theresa's and stay there. He's just a kid.

I want to hold on to Lynsey, but the doctor tells me to stay back, and I do. I'll do what I have to do. I watch, and it's brutal. Lynsey's tiny, he'll break her ribs won't he? And then he looks up, this doctor, and his face tells the story before he says the words. "I'm so sorry." I don't understand. And then he says, "There's nothing I can do."

:::::::

I hear Cheryl's shouts first of all. I was only talking to her in Price Slice a minute ago, and now I'm on my way back to my deli and I hear her, and then I see why she's shouting. They're on the ground, her and Brendan, and Lynsey's there passed out or something, and I don't know what's happened but I phone 999 and get an ambulance sent.

Some doctor's there trying to help, and it's horrible to see. It's bad. Brendan's face is white, and Cheryl's watching, staring, trying to talk Lynsey into being alive, but I can see that she's gone. I can feel it.

When the doctor stops and says he can't do anything else, Brendan goes for him, or maybe he wants to try carrying it on himself if the doc won't. I know it's no good, and I get hold of him, and there are sirens and the ambulance pulls up so I tell him it's here now, help's here. And I think he'll fight me off. And it's like he does, but he doesn't. He nearly knocks me flying, but I hold on to him, and he grabs around me like if he doesn't, he'll fall.

The ambulance crew have got Lynsey, and I've got Brendan. He's making noises that I've never heard before, like a wounded animal but worse, like the worst thing's happened that could ever happen, and my heart feels like it's being squeezed in a fist. I want to cry but I can't, can I, because I need to be strong so he can take what he needs from me.

I've felt his heart beat this fast before, but not this hard. I think I can hear it hammering, and it's not right, no-one's heart can keep on like that, and I'm scared it's going to stop dead. And Brendan can't die. I can't let him die. So I hold him tight and I close my eyes and wish for him to be alright, and I hold his head, and I whisper _It's okay, it's okay_, and I don't let him fall.

His heart isn't thumping now, and he's stopped making those noises. Then someone says something, and it's gone quiet, and we both turn and see that the ambulance people have stopped working. "Time of death," the doctor says, "Twelve thirty-nine." Cheryl's crying, wailing, and I think Brendan will leave my arms now and go to her, but he doesn't, he turns back to me and we hold on to each other even tighter than before, and his chest is heaving and he's breathing into my shoulder, and he's shaking.

:::::::

He can't give up. This doctor, he can't stop trying, but he says it, "There's nothing I can do," and I'm going to make him keep trying but someone stops me, tells me the ambulance is here now, grabs me. Stephen. And I fall on him, I don't know why: I might push him away but I don't, I hold on to him like he's the only thing left to hold on to, and I'm in his arms, and he's strong and I'm not. I'm not.

I can hear my own cries of pain, and I don't know how I'll ever stop. I feel nauseous. My heart is beating like it's going to burst, but I hear him, Stephen, whispering _It's okay_. He's wrong. It'll never be okay, I know it in my gut. But I listen to him, and feel his arms around me and his hand in my hair, and I feel my heart slowing down to match the rhythm of his as we press together, chest against chest.

I don't know how I know, but they've stopped, the medics have. We look at them, Stephen and me, and the doctor says, "Time of death, twelve thirty-nine."

Cheryl cries out in despair. I should go to her but my legs begin to give way under me, and I cling to him, and he's got me.

There are people around but I don't see them. All I'm aware of is Cheryl crying, and Stephen anchoring me.

:::::::

I feel him pulling himself together. He's not so heavy on me, and then he straightens up and lets go of me. I know what he's thinking, he's thinking he'd better go to Cheryl now and look after her. He's looking at the ground though, like he can't move yet. I put my hand on his face and wipe the tears off his cheek with my thumb, so Cheryl won't see that he's been crying, because he'll want her to know that he's strong like he's always been for her. For a second – less, probably – he looks at me, and something's changed, in me or in him, maybe in both of us. Then I watch him go over to his sister and wrap her in his arms.

I turn and see Dougie. I don't know how long he's been stood there, but I expect he's seen everything. Lynsey's his friend – was – and I ask him if he's okay, and he nods but I know he isn't. I hold his hand as we walk over to the deli.

:::::::

I've got to get a grip. I let go of Stephen and slide out of his arms, and square my shoulders. He touches my face and I glance at him, and there's something in his eyes. Compassion, must be.

I look across at my sister. Someone's got their arm around her. Lynsey's on a stretcher inside the ambulance.

I know what I've got to do. I saw the marks on Lynsey's neck, so I know someone did this to her, and I've got to find out who did it, and then I will deal with them.

But what I've got to do first is look after Cheryl. I go to her and I hold her in my arms as tight as I can, to keep together the shattered pieces of her, because that's what you do when you love someone.


End file.
